Thursday, June 23, 2011

Weary legs and Beauty...

It had been a long wonderful day; lots of work with the satisfaction that you knew you were participating in something larger than yourself. Nevertheless, the weight of the First Father’s curse prevailed as it does on most days and our legs felt the weariness of suburban life, unused to the city. To reduce the burden, we spent a few hours on our friend’s deck sipping at two bottles of wine I had purchased at a local shop. It was nice to find some invigorating moments with good friend over drinks. It’s these times that make you look forward to the Great City when they become perpetual.

I told Sarah that I wanted to transfer to the next train even though it was one stop. As I was telling her that my shins were developing splints, we ran into a crowd coming down the transfer ramp having just disembarked from the previous train – one we would have liked to have boarded. Disappointed, we trudged our way to the platform. “10 minutes” flashed as an indicator of the next train and I began to regret the choice of taking the transfer. I knew we could probably walk the distance in the same amount of time but was too tired to even make that decision. Thankfully there was a bench with two seats, as we sat, we took a breath and settled in to wait the eternal “10 minutes” – at least my shins could rest.

Then, from across the tracks we heard the familiar sound of one of the many street performers in the City. It was unusual in that it was almost midnight, but we were thankful to hear the plucking of a classical guitar. The sounds grew more satisfying when the flautist joined in. “Where is that water?” Sarah asked. I hadn’t noticed the sound until that moment, but the normal sound of liquid draining somewhere through the complex pipe system of the City was evident. “I don’t know?” I replied. The guitar, flute, and sound of running water could well have been replicated in any rural scene where a creek is full of life. But here we were resting our weary legs ten feet underground waiting for the next train. It was worth missing the previous train, and making an attempt at a one stop transfer.

Peace,

Kirk and Sarah


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